


Cracked

by poetdameron



Series: Jonerys Week 2017 [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Jonerys Week, graphic description of scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2017-09-25
Packaged: 2019-01-05 11:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12188916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetdameron/pseuds/poetdameron
Summary: As Daenerys grieves for Viserion, Jon Snow sleeps and her heart demands answers for the way she's now attached to him.





	Cracked

**Author's Note:**

> Hands down, I wasn’t expecting this to get so out of hand. It was supposed to only be ONE scene and it ended being... this. But, I enjoyed doing Dany’s POV. Hope you enjoy it. 
> 
> This was done for Jonerys Week Day 2: Favorite Scene. Jon wakes up to find Dany at his side, from Dany's POV.
> 
> Last, if you have tumblr and you liked this, please support me by reblogging the [original post](http://anythingforyoudoll.tumblr.com/post/165736239969/cracked-jonerys-got-fic-jonerys-week)!

**Cracked**

Viserion had been the smaller of her children, bony even, as he grow up with his brothers leaving him behind. They constantly throw bites in his direction and she had to call up Drogon and Rhaegal for their mean manners to their smaller brother.

She remembers the golden egg, looking like a precious rock, how it felt the first time she held his shattered form and felt the warm inside her chest and belly, recognizing it as special since the beginning, all three of them hers.

Daenerys swallowed another sob. Jon Snow’s men surrounded her, giving weird looks at her figure, like not knowing what else to say but their _thanks_ and _sorry_ , as if they had been the ones putting her children in danger.

The figure in the bed didn’t distract her thoughts from Viserion long enough, his big and innocent eyes still fixated on her as she called them for a short bath when they were still small to stand on her shoulders. Drogon would ignore her and Rhaegal followed in his steps, like the younger sibling that admires the older.

Looking at the bed, she wondered if Lord Snow’s siblings admired him as much as his men seemed to.

None of them had left his side, constantly passing by to check on him, ask her if she needed anything. None stayed long enough to make conversation, and she knew better than to initiated it herself, so that was fine, too.

All this she was feeling, no one was invited to uncover it as he slept. Only him could give her an answer while her heart felt heavy still, the lose of her child haunting her like the murmur of rain before it became a storm.

He hadn’t opened his eyes today, they told her he will maybe tomorrow, or in a couple of days.

* * *

 

“Khaleesi, is freezing.” Ser Jorah said at her side while going home, and Daenerys looked at him as if he was far away and she had imagined his voice. “Please, come inside. They have prepared a warm drink for you.”

“Thank you, but I don’t feel like it.”

She didn’t feel like anything. Drogon and Rhaegal were flying by, just above their heads but far enough to not scare the rest of the men in the boat. Their travel was safe with them in the air, but they were uneasy. Missing.

“Khaleesi, please.”

Jorah’s plea didn’t register by much, she was missing, too. Searching. Waiting. But as Rhaegal fly by, crying out for a brother that would never come home, she realized at last, that her Viserion would not come back to her, no matter how much she waited outside in the cold.

“He’s gone.”

Her friend didn’t say anything. The comfort of his silence wasn’t enough this time, and he didn’t make a move to touch her. Ser Jorah was always so kind, always so warm, but not even his affection and company could take away the nothing inside her chest.

Drogon cried out now, calling his lost brother and her heart ached. Tears were rolling down her face and Jorah finally embraced her.

She remembered Viserion’s egg cracking in the middle of the consuming fire around her. Drogon was already out and Rhaegal had been opening his eyes when the last egg finally let out her third newborn.

The small frame of him reminded her that of a child and she wanted nothing more but to protect him. Daenerys hold him at the time, helped him get to his feet and stood showing her children to the world for the first time. Her people bend on their knees and recognized the miracle of her motherhood that had bring them to life after years of no dragons.

“He’s gone!”

But she had failed Viserion. He was dead now, fallen from the sky like a simple birth stroke by a single arrow.

“He’s gone…”

And Jon Snow had stood for her, sword high and faster than she has seen any westeroisi man. He had ran away from her, yelling rage like breathing fire from his, otherwise, almost gentle mouth. No one had ever done that for her children, only her.

But he had order her to leave him behind for he was about to end an enemy that had wronged his people for too long, that had took down her dragon, and was—it was going to attack her, isn’t it? She could barely remember, her mind and heart had been far away, almost to her throat and into the ground.

Viserion would never come back, just like her childhood dreams and red door wouldn’t, like Drogo had left her to not be again, like she never looked back. But Jon Snow did. He had came back to her, frozen to a certain dead, and yet he had come back and lived another day.

She walked inside at least when the tears stopped and the cold had started to be unbearable, Jorah behind her like if confirming she was warm enough to survive. But she didn’t went for her hot drink or another boring tiny chit-chat. Daenerys almost stormed into Lord Snow’s chambers and looked as Ser Davos prepared him for a quick bath, pot of water at his side and a small towel into his hand.

“Your Grace.” He greeted her. “I didn’t knew you were coming.”

“Neither did I.” She admitted and walked inside, looking at Jorah to dismiss him. He seemed uncomfortable with her actions but, like many times before, stored his desires for himself and left. “Can I help?”, she asked after closing the door.

“But—” Davos stood while blinking, she opened her mouth to give an order, or maybe just tell she wanted to, but he nodded first. “I don’t think it’s appropiate…”

“A lot of things aren’t in these lands.” She said, walking to the other side of the bed to slowly uncover Jon’s shoulders. “I—”

“How about you help me with this water and these towels, your Grace?” He invited her to his side. “I’m afraid there are things that should remind a mystery in here.”

Her face felt warm but a small smile crossed her lips, and guilt punched the air out of her. But Daenerys walked to Ser Davos’s side, holding the pot of hot water and passing towels to him when his hand reached for them.

She didn’t look, she couldn’t. If she was to witness Jon’s forms, she wanted him well and awake. She wanted him to share it, so she could share hers.

* * *

When she first met Jon Snow, she was sure she had seen him before. Later, she dreamed of him, but it wasn’t quit him.

It was that young lover she used to imagine, making her moan and cuddle him to her chest at night. Daenerys had reprimanded herself. How could she think like this when the man had called her not only a child, but had talked to her with such disrespect, claiming to not bend the knee to a stranger?

But he had been there at Dragonston after, walking around and working with dirt and crystal with his own hands, helping his men and talking to her people, as much as he and them could understand.

Now, he lay here, in the bed of one of her boats, half dead and covered in fur to bring him back. Two nights he had slept and she was starting to get impatient for his eyes to open.

The scars in his chest and abdomen haunted her.

It reminded her of her own, of the ones in Drogo’s body and Daario’s, but not quit the thing either. These were deep, dark looking. The skin around them was dead, probably hard to the touch.

He had taken a knife to the heart for his people. There was no exaggeration in that. And there was no pride on it for him, either.

If he was another, he may had used his survival for an exclamation of surprise and admiration. But he kept doing things that only surprised her for real, making her curious and wanting to talk, and talk, and talk.

She sat down at his side on that third day, they had told her he may wake up any time by now. For the moment, there was no danger surrounding him or them. They needed him to wake up, only that way they would make sure he was, in fact, completely out of danger.

“Here”, the boy named Gendry had entered the room with a bowl of food and more warm drink. “Is dinner time, your Grace.”

Daenerys nodded, Gendry left the plates on the night’s table and she kept her guard, listening to the sea guide them home and her dragons cry the one that was gone.

Jon was not going to be gone, she had decided. She couldn’t lose another one.

* * *

Early in the morning of the fourth day, she cried again, alone in Jon’s chambers.

She wasn’t sure for what the tears were, her child or how none of her dreams of home were true. Or Jon, that had been stabbed before they could meet. Or because he hadn’t woke up yet. It was still dark in the sky, and Daenerys cried in silence, swallowing sob after sob, until her eyes were dry and her nose was hurt.

Nobody came in the morning to give her breakfast or clean him up.

With firm hands, she disposed of the water and the towels, and cleaned him herself, at least cleaned his face and his arms, his shoulders and collarbone, until Ser Davos came and none said a word about what duties she had taken that weren’t hers to do.

“How do you feel the winter?” Davos said after Jon was clean, sitting with her as they waited for him to wake up. “I bet it’s not how you imagine it.”

“I didn’t think much of winter, Ser.” She answered. “I imagined other places with sun.”

“Like what? If I may ask.”

“You may.” She smiled, looking at Jon from the corner of her eyes. “Dragonstone. It was sunny when we arrived, but it’s been… dark, most times. The sky has been bluer lately, for sure.” She couldn’t help but look at Jon. Just a few days ago, he had been in Drogon’s landing spot and the contrast between his gray and black colors against the brightness of the sea and the sky, the green of the grass and the golden of the sun, had made him look beautiful. “Snow must be beautiful…”

If he had something to say or was thinking of her at the moment, Ser Davos said nothing and she appreciate it that way.

She has never seen snowing, not really. In dreams, the cold tugged at her core and made her shiver, she would see the small drops of ice melting in her skin and nothing else. Daenerys never imagined the real cold, never thought something would feel as it.

Most times, she was warm for she was a dragon after all, but the North was real to its claims, her skin was cold as her heart felt and she swallowed.

“What do the northers do when they have sick people in bed?” She asked.

Davos seemed to search for his answer, probably thinking of Jon’s House and what was done over there.

She knew so little about him but so much at the same time. She didn’t knew which of his siblings was the closer to him, if he had a favorite meal, if he wished to have the power to change something of his past.

But she knew he was a good man, that his heart may be too big for his own good. Her children recognized him like they never did anyone before. She recalled them growling at her lovers and friends, they had been always only touched by her. And Jon Snow had become their friend, suddenly touched by him.

If Drogon could be submissive to Lord Snow, so will be Rhaegal. Her Viserion would had been so happy to have another set of arms to pet him, and the threat she didn’t believe in had taken him away from all of it.

“People pray to their Gods and put on guards, waiting for them to wake up.” Ser Davos answered. “Sometimes, they tell stories, sing songs. Some women sew, other make figures to offer to their Gods and ask for their favor.”

“Doesn’t sound so different.” She admitted. “I guess we all love the same.”

He was looking at her now, she could feel it. But once more, he said nothing and only nodded. “We do.”

* * *

He woke up later that fourth day, hold her hand, said he was sorry, and looked at her like if she had bring peace to him as he longed since forever.

Daenerys couldn’t take it, it was all too much.

She ran from him like a little girl.

* * *

She dreamed of Viserion, happily flying and playing with his brothers, sleeping on the grass and sniffing on wild flowers that only made him sniff multiple times until he needed water to take the strange flavor and smell from his nose.

No matter how big he got, he was still her baby. And now he was gone.

Daenerys woke up with tears in her eyes for her dreams became nightmares of him sinking in unknown waters that would freeze him for eternity, away from home, away from her forever.

Her heart hammered inside her chest, and she put one hand over her mouth, silencing the best she could the sobs coming out from her. She had lost Rhaego first and it had almost killed her, to know she was responsible for that lost had also killed part of her spirit ever since.

Now, she had done it again. She had put in risk her dragons and one had fallen, she unable to do anything but watch.

Her baby didn’t like the water, he took his quick showers when he was younger better than his brothers, but he had never liked it anyway. And now he was doomed to sleep in water for the many years to come.

* * *

When she opened Jon’s door, he wasn’t in bed and for a second, her heart stopped.

“I thought you weren’t coming again.” She heard to her right, he was standing outside the toilet area, barely dressed in pants and nothing else. “Your Grace.” He greeted her after making eye contact, slowly walking back to the bed.

“Good morning…” She said, looking him get into bed lazily. “You are looking better. Are you feeling better?”

“I am.” He answered. His voice was as sweet as it had been yesterday, it made her legs feel weak and the rest of her body fill with strange sensations of cold and warm at the same time. “But you don’t seem any better, my Queen.”

The way he said those words shouldn’t be allowed, maybe she should tell him to stop it, but her heart didn’t want her to. Daenerys licked her lips, walked to the chair she had claimed as hers and sat down in front of him.

“I can hardly sleep.” She admitted, watching him sit to face her, his hands over his lap and she ached to take them again, feel his warm, that he was real and very much alive. “I have so much in my head, not even tired I can shut it all down.”

She didn’t question herself why she was telling him this right now, and she probably wouldn’t later. He was looking at her that way again, like if he could see something nobody else could, and was keeping the secret to himself. Jon nodded, and she looked at his hands, wondering if he would touch her again or was keeping them away on purpose.

Had he felt rejected? Maybe. There was no time for this right now, a war that could end everything they most loved was about to walk through that wall she have seen only in dreams before, love was only a commodity that could become a weakness none of them needed.

Daenerys’ heart jumped a bit at the mention of love. There was no work for her to keep it away from the privacy of her mind, not now. She wondered if Tyrion had noticed already, that Jon wasn’t the only one staring and making dumb decision dictated by his heart.

“Daenerys,” he called her and her body filled with goosebumps at the mention of her name. Until now, he had been respectful to her title and never said her name in her presence, but it rolled on his tongue like if he had said it a million times before, “what you did for us beyond the wall… Not anyone would put their lives at risk like you did, not for a bunch of nobodies like us. You saved us, you could had easily leave us there to die—”

“What kind of person turns her back to those who need her?” She interrupted, he tilted his head and smiled softly. “You are a brave warrior, Jon Snow. You’ll be needed, you already are.”

“Jon is alright.” He answered, Daenerys swallowed. “You have too much of a good heart, you should allow yourself to accept when someone says thank you.”

“Where you?” She smiled.

“I was going to, aye.” He replied with his smile widening. “Thank you, Daenerys.”

She could feel her own smile widening instead, her cheeks grew tender and Daenerys looked down at her own hands, aching to touch his again.  


“Dany it’s okay.” She said instead, slowly looking up at him again. “I was just taken aback by it before.”

He said nothing but smiled at her. The scars on his chest were exposed and her eyes lingered over them almost without her noticing, when she wanted to look away, it was too late. He had seen her and had moved to show them properly.

Daenerys’ heart ached at the view. How could someone want to harm him? Him, that was the most noble man she has ever met? She looked up at his face again. Maybe that had been the problem, maybe he was too good for the people and no one had understood it.

“Your scars—” She left the question floating around, hoping he would catch it.

“Aye.”

She left out a heavy sigh, her shoulders feeling heavy and lose at the same time. Daenerys liked her bottom lip while looking down again and slowly approached his chest with an uncertain hand. But she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t just reach out and touch, and when his hand took her wrist to guide her over him, her heart hammered inside her chest.

His skin was warm and the edges of every scar exactly like she thought, hard and not quit old yet. She wanted to ask him when this has happened, how it was, and if the ones who did it were still alive. The idea burn deep in her belly, forming an emptiness she didn’t like.

“How could it be…?”

“A Red Priestess brought me back. I don’t know all the details, I suspect I don’t want to know.” He said, his tone letting her know there was more to it he couldn’t put into words.

She wasn’t here to torture him with it, so she just followed the path to the scar over his chest. “So you were truly— you _were_ dead.”

It wasn’t a question and he didn’t seem to want to hide it anymore, Jon nodded.

The scar looked like a half moon, it almost made her smile when her mind recalled the times she has been called The Moon. She wondered what he would think, if he would felt as warm as she did while thinking about it.

“I almost didn’t met you.” Daenerys swallowed, looking up at his eyes. “You like doing stupid things, don’t you?”

The way he smiled, lowering his head before looking up again, she realized he was trying to not laugh. So she moved from her chair, standing in front of him with both hands on his face. He stopped then, looking up at her eyes in a tender way, still a bit surprised, but loving. There was no other way to describe it.

“You have to stop.” She said. “I’m not losing you. You said you are a King, then be one. You don’t have to be the stupid hero, survive for your people if you won’t for yourself.”

Jon’s eyes were a poem, or that they looked to her. Daenerys didn’t realize when he had put his hands on her waist but responded to the soft push of them, sitting on his lap in the process as he embraced her tight.

His grip was strong, his breathing heavy and his smell sparked the memory of a rainy morning as she looked through her window in the big house with the red door when she was a kid. Daenerys frowned, memories of that house were still sacred to her, and as much as she wanted to maintain them fresh, they had been disappearing one by one. But this one was new.

Almost as new as the way she felt for him. Not the same she felt for any of the people she has cared about before, not like her love and necessity of Drogo, her desire for Daario, her connection to Jorah. It was— it was—.

“I’m sorry.” He said again, the warm of his mouth so close to her ear, her skin sparkled in goosebumps. “I’m here now.”

He would probably keep doing all the dangerous things being a leader got them to do, she would put herself in danger many times again after this, but as a long as he returned to her and hold her like this, she’d be stupid with him.

Feeling like this was probably a mistake, but she couldn’t help it. Daenerys smiled at him and leaned her forehead to his, closing her eyes and they breathe each other in.

Later, he lay down again as she stayed with him the rest of the day. She didn’t dream bad that night.

**~0~**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! Maybe I'll see you at [my tumblr](http://anythingforyoudoll.tumblr.com/)? Have a good day!
> 
> Next up: Day 3, modern day AU. Open Windows. Jon has a new neighboor he can see across his open window every morning, and he's sure Ghost and Nymeria are in love with her. Or, Jon and Arya share an apartment and Dany moves to the building in front of their window and plays with their dogs.


End file.
